


Runaways

by ThePlotMurderer



Category: The Young and the Restless
Genre: F/M, Latest crack ship, Mentions of Chadam, Or maybe it's not as crack as the last one, They play some Hearts and Flowers, drinking buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 10:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10829367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePlotMurderer/pseuds/ThePlotMurderer
Summary: There's one place Chelsea goes to whenever life gets too overwhelming. This is the first time she's found someone else there...but maybe that isn't a bad thing, for either of them.





	Runaways

**Author's Note:**

> My latest Y&R oneshot! Again inspired by the electric chemistry between the associated actors, and also by the fact that one of these people is currently embroiled in a very questionable pairing indeed.
> 
> If you like it, feel free to comment! If you don't, comment anyway! Whatever floats your boat.

Sometimes, Chelsea just gets into her car and drives. Where? That's funny. Nowhere, not really. Just so long as it was suitably far enough away from home.

But not _too_ far away. You always had to be careful of hysterical calls from babysitters or tailors or whiskey-weeping mothers needing validation.

_All these people who need you. Did you ever think that was gonna happen to you? You should be lucky._

She should be.

Chelsea drove with the roof down, the better to feel the fresh spring breeze in her face, running through her hair. It still amazed her, how you could drive half a mile out of Genoa City and suddenly feel like you were in the middle of  _Little House on the Prairie._ Rolling fields, wooden fences, amber waves of grain.

She'd hated it when she first came here, and yet now she was filled with an errant joy just to see it. To be in any world even the slightest bit different from her own.

She checked her rear view mirror, saw the shrinking figure of Newman tower, and watched until it disappeared over the horizon, like a mirage. Like all of Genoa City was just some cheesefarmer's delirious fantasy, a metropolis in the middle of the heartland.

It was harder to drive on dirt roads, Chelsea knew this. Sure, it was really nice having a periwinkle Porsche to drive uptown and stun the other socialite drones with, but these luxury cars were as flimsy as they were impressive.

Like so much else in Chelsea's New Life (Chelsea 2.0. Pfft).

But even the bumping and shaking on this offroad trail could not turn her from her course, certainly not when the first slivers of sparkling blue began to become visible through the limbs of trees.

Lake Michigan, big and bold and about as unspoiled as any American natural wonder could be.

Chelsea had seen a lot in her time. Dubai skyscrapers that kissed the clouds, glowing barges practically flying over the Hong Kong bay, Himalayan villages that defied gravity itself on sharp mountain slopes...

Yet the lake took her breath away in a way none of those other places had. Chelsea had a few suspicions as to why, and she was embarrassed by some as she was proud of others.

It was important to be proud of your past. Some of it. Sometimes. She'd learned a long time ago not to embrace self-flagellation. The rest of the world will flagellate you just enough, thank you very much.

She parked the car on the muddy patch that served like a natural parking lot, stepping out onto the dewy grass and letting the fresh, overpowering odor of nearby flowers, shrubs... _nature_ in its prime, remove the stink of the city from her lungs.

She caught a whiff of exhaust as she inhaled, and spotted a second set of tire tracks as she exhaled.

Chelsea wasn't alone. Maybe not too surprising. With the nice weather finally returning, it seemed likely there might be some families, hikers, birdwatchers...

And yet this part of the lake very rarely had  _any_ visitors, any at all. It had been part of the reason Chelsea had picked it, so long ago, as a place to think.

But, if she was really going to keep thinking of this place as  _her_ place, than by rights she shouldn't let anything turn her away from it.

She started down the slope toward to the lakeshore, listening to the gentle lap of the water against the bank, the rustle of the breeze through the reeds that grew up out of the shallow water.

_You should bring Connor here. Why haven't you? This should be as much his place as it is..._

“Chelsea?”

She let out a half-gasp, half-scream, spinning on her heel so sharply that, in her heels ( _Please, former International Citizen, why did you choose to wear mules to the lake?_ ), she quite lost her balance and might just have faceplanted in the mud had she not grabbed onto the nearest possible thing to steady herself...

A man's belt. Life's little way of constantly reminding you of your roots.

A muffled “ _Oomph!_ ”, and Chelsea found herself lying flat on her back, looking up at a head of spiky dark hair, stormy eyes wide and surprised...

Stormy eyes, gray and dark and so often cold, cold as the ice water around her, dark as the murky film that had clouded the world to her. And yet he'd been so warm, so shockingly, reassuringly warm, pulling her up from the ice, taking her in his arms, reminding her that she was  _not_ yet dead, that they would make it out of this, but only together...

“Chelsea?” But that wasn't his voice. Of course it wasn't. She was just getting weird again... It was a lighter voice, a younger voice.

“N-Noah?” she blinked, bringing the face of her nephew into better relief, “It's you.”

“It's me,” he was either smiling or wincing, it was hard to tell, “Didn't mean to scare you.”

“You...you didn't...” Chelsea was aware of her heart beating rapidly against her ribs, and realized, the way they were on top of each other, Noah could probably tell too, “I'm sorry, I should've been looking where I was going.”

“Nah...shouldn't have jumped out at you like that.”

They lay there for a few moments more. In the near distance, the water murmured through the reeds, and a larch started singing in some treetop somewhere.

“Let me...” he began, and he lifted himself to get off her, only to immediately grit his teeth in pain, rearing back with a hiss.

“Oh my God,” Chelsea sat up, grateful that, despite the mudstains that would surely have besmirched this blouse, she wasn't excessively sore, “Are you hurt?”

“N-no...” Noah shook his head rapidly, “Just a kink in my... _Jeez_!” he'd been trying to stand, only to come dropping to his knees again in the mud.

“Let me have a look,” she went over beside him, knee over knee.

“Chelsea, really, it's fine...”

“It is _not_ fine. I hauled you down into the muck, I can at least make sure I didn't dislocate something important.”

“You're very comforting, Helen Keller, but...”

“Helen Keller?” Chelsea looked up at him.

“T-the nurse? You know...”

“ _Florence Nightingale_ , barkeep,” Chelsea corrected him with a light laugh, “Helen Keller was the blind girl.”

“Smartypants.”

“Oh yeah, totally Ivy League. I _slayed_ my GED,” she put a gentle hand on the small of his back, “Where does it hurt?”

“I dunno, Chelsea, it really isn't that bad...”

Chelsea gave him her patented ' _You wanna try this right now_ ?' look, “You say that now, and it's gonna bother you for days, weeks, months maybe...”

“You're really making me regret scaring you.”

“Who's scared?” but Chelsea found herself grinning.

Noah rolled his eyes, but there was a lilt to his voice when he said, “I think...my leg, I guess.”

“Good guess. Let's have a look.”

“You're a nurse, now?”

“I am a great many things, Noah Newman,” she told him, carefully rolling up the left leg of his jeans, to examine the raw abrasion on his calf, splotchy red against his otherwise pale skin, “Ugh.”

“What?” he frowned, boyish face crinkling up in concern, “Is...is something _wrong_?”

Chelsea met his eyes, nodding very slowly, “Looks pretty serious.”

“Seriously? I mean...it doesn't hurt _that_ bad...”

“Like, we might have to cut it off. It's kinda freaking me out...”

Noah blinked, expression incredulous, “You're a piece of work, you know that?”

“I have been told a few times, yes,” she shrugged, laughing, “It's just a bruise. I've got some Neosporin in the car.”

“Neosporin? What are you, my mother?”

“I _could_ be,” she pointed out, taking the quick trot to her trunk and retrieving the tube of miracle juice from her purse.

“You're not _that_ old,”

“I'll be sure to tell Sharon you said that.”

Noah reddened at once, “That's not what I...” scoffing, he cut himself off, “Fine, you're old.”

Chelsea gave him a tight-lipped smile as she gently began daubing the cream up and down Noah's leg. Twice she raised her eyes to look at him, and found him looking out over the lake. She might have believed he was oblivious to her were it not for the fact that she could just make out his neck doing 180s just before she looked his way.

“There,” she finished, capping the tube, “Good as new.”

“You're very helpful,” he told her with a ghost of a smile.

“Let me help you up,” she got to her feet, reaching a hand down for Noah to take. He looked at it, his eyes twinkling at her, and then accepted the offer.

“Oof!” Chelsea wasn't expecting him to be so heavy, but she stood her ground, despite wobbling precariously for a mom...

_Crack!_

“Shit.”

“You alright?”

She lifted her leg to assess the damage, “I'm fine.” she took off her right shoe, the better to display the the cracked heel, “But this one's down for the count.”

“Sucks...sorry about that,”

“Oh, it's not your fault,” Chelsea shrugged, “It's what I get, wearing these into the wilderness.”

“I mean...they look really nice,” he mumbled vaguely.

Detecting an ardent aura of guilt, Chelsea reassured him, “Clearance rack. DSW. 40 bucks. I'm not so bougie that I wear Jimmy Choos to the lake.”

Though she realized as she was saying it that not that long ago, paying 40 bucks for a pair of mules would have still been an impossible luxury.

So much of her life had changed...and maybe she'd changed too. She felt goosebumps rise on her arms, contrasting with the pleasant warmth of the afternoon.

“So...” Noah was saying, bringing Chelsea back to the present, “what brings you here?”

“I might ask you the same question,” she replied, coyly, leaning against her car.

“Going for a walk,” his smile wavered, and he looked back out toward the water, “I...I come here sometimes. To think.”

“Huh,” Chelsea nodded, “That's cool.”

She followed his gaze to the water. Chelsea noticed he was keeping a few paces away from her, balancing on his good leg, when he could just as easily leaned against the car with her.

_I scare him? Is that it... Jesus, when did you become_ scary _?_

Maybe around the time she'd started dating his father. But even then...

“Do you want a drink?” he asked her suddenly.

“A...a drink?”

He nodded over to the not-too-distant outline of a Grand Cherokee at the other end of the muddy paddock, “Never travel without a couple of cold ones. Just in case.”

“It's only 3:00,” Chelsea quipped, “You sure you're aloud to imbibe me, bartender?”

“I'm willing to to take the risk,” he played along, pausing as a strange expression flitted over his face, “Besides, it's better drinking with company, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chelsea said, but Noah was already limping over to his car. Her first instinct was to catch up with him in case he fell, but the rapidity with which he'd set off seemed to suggest he didn't want help.

Chelsea could understand that, but some part of her still felt bad to watch. Maybe it was the mother, the wife, the socialite...one of the many new facets that had been chiseled into her since that fateful day on this very lakeshore, because it sure as _hell_ hadn't been part of her before Genoa City.

Weird, in a lot of ways, that bullheaded resilience, that insistence on independence...there was a lot of Nick in that. And a lot of Adam.

_Look at me! Standing on my own, no strings to hold me down. Aren't you proud?_

But Chelsea wasn't sure if she was supposed to feel proud, or to feel anything.

Noah returned from his trunk with a six pack of Budweiser which he, quite wisely, was carrying in his right hand, the better to balance him out.

“For Mademoiselle?” he offered her a can, which she accepted with a gracious nod, lifting herself up onto the hood of her Porsche.

Noting Noah's reticence, Chelsea patted the spot beside her, “Well? Pop a squat.”

And he did, though he was still pretty hesitant about it. She opened her Bud seconds before he did, and the chorus of snaps and hisses sounding almost like cicadas in the woods.

They sat there, drinking in silence, for what felt like an unusually long time. Chelsea wasn't sure if she'd done something to upset Noah, or if maybe he was just shy around her...

_Well, you_ did  _just haul him down by his belt._

“I guess you come here a lot?” he asked her suddenly.

“I...yeah, I do. From the moment I moved here. This is...” she looked around, taking a sip from the can, “It feels like it's far away from everything.”

“Your very own Walden Pond.”

Chelsea cocked an eyebrow, and Noah laughed, “Ha. Not so smart after all.”

“Oh, shut up.” she sighed and, before she could debate whether or not she _should_ say what she said next, she'd already said it, “We used to come here together.”

“Adam?”

Chelsea nodded, “I still remember...when my...” she held her eyes shut, catching what she'd said.

_It's been years, half a decade. You know better, you've gotten over it._

And she had. Truly. But now...now, here, by the lake, memories of the cold and the wet and Adam's deep, deep stormy eyes pulling her out into the air, into the night... It felt cheap _not_ to think of the baby as hers. Even if for only that one, terrible, beautiful night.

“Johnny,” she said in the end, “When he was born. I was...well, I guess you'd call it running away. It was just...I needed to get out of that house. Victoria's house. And I know it sounds selfish of me, after everything that's happened...”

“That doesn't sound selfish,” his voice had taken on a soft, yet husky quality. Even from his relative distance down the hood of the car, she could feel the words tickling her ear, “Believe me, I get feeling overwhelmed by Newmans,” he paused, “But a baby's a bigger deal.”

“It wasn't even that,” she shook her head, “I knew I would have to give up the baby. That Victoria and Billy were going to raise him. I knew that. But day after day, I was being treated like some kind of ticking time bomb... And I knew, I knew that once the bomb had gone off, and there was no other use for me...”

Chelsea heaved a breath, surprised to find that her eyes were wet.

“I was used to being on my own. I was. And I was _used_ to people wanting things from me, but...” she raised the cold rim of the can to her mouth, “That night, it just hit me...I was going to have a baby, and I would have to give it away...and then I'd just be expected to leave. To continue my life like nothing had happened. And I thought I could. Until then.”

She felt a tear escape and roll down her face, and immediately realized what she'd said. A feeling like shame rose up inside her.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Noah, I don't know where that came...”

“No,” he said firmly, “No, I understand. That's what...that's what Marisa thought too. Something like it.”

“Marisa?” Chelsea wasn't sure she'd heard Noah mention his ex once since he'd said they'd broken up.

“Ava, her daughter. She was taken away from her, and... And I know that never left her. I mean, I don't _know_ , I guess I can't ever know what it feels like, but I know what she told me. She told herself she could get past it, but...but it never leaves you. The wondering.”

“It was a very brave thing you did, Noah,” Chelsea told him, “Letting Marissa go, for her daughter.”

“I didn't feel very brave doing it,” he took an impressive swig from the can, “But...but there was a lot going on. I realized I didn't have a choice.”

“Sometimes that's the bravest thing we can do,” Chelsea said, “I knew I couldn't raise a baby on my own. And I knew Johnny would have a great life with Victoria and Billy, and I was right. And...and look at everything that happened after that.”

She felt a pang as she said it, but pressed on, “I started a new life that day, right here, at this lake. And Noah, I don't even know how to describe how scary it was...but it was also so...so...”

She trailed off, uncertain if she had a word. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Noah make a motion with his hand, only to withdraw it, as if he'd wanted to wrap an arm around her shoulder, but then thought better of it.

“I have a lot to be grateful for,” she said at last, “So much that I never thought I'd be able to have. I live in a penthouse, I have my own business. Fashion blogs call me a queen and an icon and an 'aesthetic', whatever the hell that means. I have the most beautiful son, and...” she was aware of her voice cracking, “And I got to experience being in love, being loved...even if it wasn't for a very long time.”

She heard Noah take in a breath, and realized what she'd said.

“Oh, Noah...I'm sorry, I...I didn't mean to make it sound like your Dad...”

“I get it,” he told her, “Chelsea, I get it. What you and Adam had...that was a special thing. Obviously, you're not gonna feel that way about every guy.”

She smiled at him, a watery smile, “It's just...it's been weighing on me a lot. Since Chloe...” even now, the name stung on her lips, made her feel sick.

_He pulled me from the ice...why couldn't I pull him from the fire? He saved me, and I failed him..._

It's the ones we love who do us in, every time. Her Mom had told her that once, and Chelsea had believed it for years...only forgetting it when she actually had people to love in her life.

“There's a lot that my Dad doesn't get. I'm the first to admit it, he's kind of a dork about a lot of things.” he laughed softly, and Chelsea couldn't keep back a chuckle of her own as he kept on.

“He likes to...to fix people. Does that make sense?”

Chelsea nodded.

“Ever since he was with my Mom... I don't know if it's just him trying to seem _different_ from my Grandpa, but whatever it is it stuck with him.”

“You're saying he's trying to fix me?”

Noah looked at her, “Maybe...but it's not just you, Chelsea. It's Adam too.” he shrugged, “I think he realized, somewhere, that whatever else he and Adam were to each other...they were still brothers. And him dying, that made my Dad guilty. He wanted to...I dunno, maybe do right by him, take care of him in whatever way he could, and...” he broke off, “Whoa, I'm sorry, I...I didn't mean for that to sound...”

“Accurate?” Chelsea took a drink from the can, feeling a steady buzz in the back of her skull, warm and comforting, “I've thought it too, Noah. Nick and me...I think we're just trying to make each other feel better.”

_Oh, yeah, that's exactly what you're doing. You selfless, noble little martyr_ .

She thought of Nick, his broad, boyish smile. How any man could be so big, so gruff and yet so much like a child... She imagined the baby boy in his hands, that round face, that big eyes, beautiful eyes, Adam's eyes...

_That's all you are, lies upon lies. Paint it anyway you want, but you're nothing but a scheming con at heart._

“I don't really know what I'm doing anymore,” she said at last, “Somehow, that never used to matter, but...I guess, somewhere along the line I grew up. And I realized I don't understand the person I am now. Not all the way. Not really. Am I Chelsea the Con, Chelsea the Whore, Chelsea the Incubator, Chelsea the Princess, Chelsea 2.0?” she laughed, but there wasn't much humor in it.

“Let me tell you, some days I'd give anything to just cut out and run, get as far from here as possible, but...”

“I get you,” Noah smiled at her and, as if throwing caution to the wind, put his arm around her shoulder. Chelsea felt her breath catch as he touched her, his hand warm and firm, yet comforting and weirdly soft.

He looked for a moment like he regretted the motion, but Chelsea put her own hand over his, telling him to stay put.

He kept on, his eyes vibrant, shades of gray and blue and green... Chelsea wasn't sure how she ever could have mistaken him for Adam.

“My whole life, I've been trying to...to make something of myself. To...to _be_ more than just Victor Newman's grandson. And, every time I try, every time I think I've got it...something just keeps pulling me back home.”

“And home gets exhausting.” Chelsea added.

“Don't get me wrong, I love this place, but...”

“But there has to be more,” Chelsea finished for him, “And there _is_ , Noah. There is...there is so much in the world. You're young, you don't need to beat yourself up for wanting to get out there. A person like you, Noah, you can go out there and _conquer_ the world, if you want to...”

“Maybe I could,” Noah reddened, “But I wouldn't know what to do with it when I had it.”

“And that's what makes you so special. I didn't get that until it was too late. Just _being_ a part of the world, that's enough.”

“You make it sound like so final. Like you can't be part of the world.”

“Well, it's different for me. I'm a mother, I have work, responsibilities...”

“And? Chelsea, you're young, and beautiful. Powerful. So powerful, in fact, that you can probably afford to take a vacation with nobody here looking at you sideways.”

Chelsea laughed, “Alright, alright...well, in _that_ case, you have to promise me something.”

“Shoot.”

“When I decide to seize the day and take the world by storm...I want _you_ to come with me. And we can be young and beautiful and powerful together.”

Noah blinked, “Chelsea, I...”

“Did I come on too strong?” she leaned back, holding up the nearly drained can, “Twasn't my fault, entire.”

“No,” Noah clapped his hand on her shoulder, “I think that is a _kickass_ idea.”

Chelsea wasn't sure what came over her then. If it was the beer, the warm sun, that bright, shining, innocent face that cared so much and wanted so little...

She wasn't sure if what she was doing was right, or wrong, or innocent or cruel, but she kissed him, pressing her lips against his.

She could feel him gasp against her, taste the Bud on his lips. She closed her eyes, just as she saw Noah's own fluttering shut. He made a sound in his throat, some sort of whimper that melted her heart, and suddenly he was running his hands through her hair.

They pulled apart, just by mere inches, their noses brushing against each other. Chelsea could hear herself breathing heavily, could see that he was too. She had no idea what kind of flushed, hot mess she was right now, but Noah looked some windswept combo of surprised, nervous and relieved.

“You okay?” she asked him.

“I'm kinda freaking out” he told her, sounding somewhere between laughing and crying, “But that's cool. Does that make sense?”

“More than anything I've heard in a while,” she told him, and kissed him again.

They sprawled out there, on the hood of Chelsea's ridiculously impractical Porsche, arms wrapped around each other, the wind off the lake catching his shirt as she fumbled with the buttons, blowing her hair into his face as he plied kisses on her forehead.

In the trees, birds were singing. Larches and sparrows and maybe even a nightingale, it was hard to tell.

A tiny, stillsmall voice in the back of Chelsea's head warned her she would come to regret this, that it would just be another in a long line of mistakes.

But Chelsea was coming to realize that acknowledging that voice had never brought her anything good. In fact, all the best times of her life, as well as some bad, had come from ignoring it.

And Chelsea couldn't live without a little risk. She'd been born restless, and she felt that maybe Noah had too. Restless spirits in a world too big to conquer, but just big enough for them to get lost in, if they liked.

Chelsea felt she could afford to get lost with Noah. That she may even come to love it.


End file.
